Chapter Text
Out of all the species that lived within the Nether, piglins were by far the most well-researched by overworlders.
A few different reasons could explain why this was the case. Firstly, piglins were spread widely across the Nether, residing everywhere from the dense crimson forests to the sparse basalt deltas, whether present in large traveling groups or their smaller scouting parties. If you set foot in the Nether even only once, odds were high you'd meet or spot piglins during your trip. This was also why most overworlders were forewarned about always carrying gold with them, since piglins were more hostile to those without it.
Secondly, piglins boasted a higher intelligence than other Nether-dwelling sorts. While it took some time before the full depths of piglin culture and language were recorded, it had become clear eventually that piglins were smart enough to barter, had advanced hunting tactics, understood simple overworld concepts when explained to them, and passed along an extensive oral history through their generations.
Lastly, piglins were social creatures. With the exception of their avoidance or aggression towards those not wearing gold – rumored to be because piglins believed that gold kept the rotting disease away – piglins seemed happy to interact with overworlders whenever they passed through. They weren't shy to approach first either, sometimes trying to find people just to trade with them. And among their own kind, piglins clearly were pack animals too, always sticking close together. A lone piglin was a rare sight. Their smaller villages were more like temporary settlements for long excursions that took them far away from home. A majority of piglins lived in their huge city-like bastions.
Those bastions also happened to be where Overworld research fell woefully short. Piglins were still instinct-driven at their core, very territorial and fiercely protective. While friendly to any overworlder they met out and about, piglins would never allow an outsider close to their bastion, including piglins from other sounders. Any knowledge about bastions that overworlders did possess came from scavenging through the remains of abandoned ones.
Even Technoblade, who had some piglin blood running in his veins himself, had never been inside an inhabited one.
Imagine his surprise when he realized that was where he was being taken.
It dawned on him embarrassingly late that that was what was happening. In his defense, he'd been more than a little distracted by the throbbing of his ankle and the blood pouring down his side. He'd come into the Nether to get some mining done, nothing special. But on the loose netherrack, he'd poorly judged his footing. Techno twisted his ankle when he lost his balance, spraining it in the process of falling down the slope (or breaking it. Techno wasn't certain and he'd rather not check so he could remain insistent it was sprained in the face of Chat's cajoling about the mess up). To add insult to injury – or, well, more injury to the already existing injury – falling down the slope had sent him straight into the path of an angry hoglin. Techno managed to kill the thing, but not before its tusk had gored his stomach open from the top of his hip almost to his navel. Yeah, not exactly his finest moment.
Techno never went anywhere without medical supplies, so even with the gash angrily spilling red all over his shirt, he wasn't worried yet. However, a piglin hunting party spotted him while he was messily trying to wrap up the wound. When they came over to look, Techno wasn't going to complain about it. They might be carrying stuff he could need in a pinch.
A brute came forward first, gesturing with its arms to signal for the others to stay back until it could assess the situation. There were four more piglins lingering behind it, curiously glancing at Techno and oinking softly to each other. Techno couldn't see if they were males or females, that sort of thing was hard to tell in their kind. Not that it mattered much. Piglins probably had no context of gender as a social construct, and roles within the group were assigned solely based on physical build and learned skills.
Brutes were the most visibly distinct, their physique so different from other piglins that there was a time overworlders theorized they were a separate subspecies. More likely chalked up to a biological quirk, brutes were more or less built like brick houses. Techno had never seen any under eight feet, and they could almost compete with hoglins in terms of pure muscle mass. Brutes were protectors and guardians of the sounder, a smidge more hostile than other piglins as a result, though mostly they were capable fighters. You never saw a travelling party or settlement without a brute around, and the number would steadily go up the closer you got to a bastion.
Other piglins devoted themselves to tasks fitting their size. Bigger, stronger piglins were the ones that went out as warriors, hunters, or guards. Smaller, leaner piglins would often be foragers, traders, or scouts. And those were just the most common roles shown to outsiders. From casual observation, overworlders knew that piglins could devote themselves to becoming scribes or scholars, artisans, cooks, builders, crafters, a whole plethora of jobs really. Any group of piglins spotted in the wild would be accompanied by a few brutes, with larger groups not being shy in even taking older shoats along on excursions.
Techno could tell these were hunters because of the weapons slung around their backs and pieces of cut-off hoglin meat and hide that hung from their belts. They might have been hunting the exact same pack of hoglins to which the stray belonged. Techno pressed a hand against the blood pooling from his stomach and looked up at the brute from where he was sitting on the ground.
"Yeah, one sec, I'm trying not to die here."
It snorted lightly in amusement, nostrils flaring. Techno finished up the makeshift bandage first. There was… Yeah, there was more blood than he thought there would be. Maybe that tusk nicked him a bit deeper than he gave it credit for. Techno neglected to bring any potions, so he needed the wound to have enough pressure on it to keep him from bleeding out until he could get to the portal and return to civilization. He didn't want to try stitching himself up out in the open.
He hissed sharply when he accidentally pressed his fingers against the side of the gash too hard, lips curling at the pain. The brute chuffed - presumably in sympathy. It would be very familiar with this sort of injury.
"You didn't happen to bring any regeneration pots, did you?" Techno asked. The brute did not show any sign of understanding him, dark red eyes only taking Techno in with a sort of strange contemplation on its face. Techno wasn't completely unused to people looking at him like that, but mostly it was humans in the Overworld. His hybrid status wasn't always plainly seen, despite the pink hair, so Techno's appearance tended to draw unwanted attention.
When he finished tying the bandage, the pressure put on the wound throbbed dully in time with his heartbeat. Chat insisted that meant an artery had been damaged, but Techno held out hope they were wrong.
"What about gapples?" Techno said. Some of the piglins reacted to that word, making more intense vocalizations. "I can trade you some gol-"
Techno reached for his pouch and stopped.
His greaves were gone.
They could have slid off while he fell, since Techno attached them over the bulkier part of his pants, the straps loose and fraying. Golden armor was kind of cringe in how useless it was when it came to actually protecting the wearer, Techno would swear on netherite any day of the week. So when he went into the nether, the only gold he bothered with was these old greaves. Just something made out of the shiny material that would appease piglins, easy to throw on over his usual fit.
A huge hand moved closer to his face and Techno flinched back. He scrambled to get up and out of reach from the brute, who chuffed again, though it sounded a little louder and more placating that time. Not threatening.
Which was confusing in itself.
Because Techno knew these piglins should be attacking him. He wasn't wearing any gold, so why were they being this calm while near him?
Being on his feet made Techno stumble a little, head swimming with dizziness from the blood loss. His palm remained lightly cupped against his stomach, and he could feel more warmth ooze against the inside of the bandages. He had to keep one knee bent at an angle to take weight off his sprained ankle. And every single other bruise or cut from his tumble was starting to make itself known.
Maybe he got a bit more hurt than he wanted to admit.
The brute huffed, nodding at Techno's stomach too. It was probably thinking the same thing as him. Though that wouldn't go far in clearing up Techno's surprise that he wasn't being torn to pieces at the moment. Then, the brute said something. The word was more of a grunt than anything comprehensible, but there was a clear effort from the brute to make itself enunciate properly.
"Wounded," it observed.
Piglins technically spoke two languages. One was made up entirely of vocalizations, simple noises only comparable to those of animals, heavily supplemented by body language, physical gestures, and - going by some research - scent markers. This was how piglins communicated with each other most of the time, conveying emotions and information and even affection in ways that seemed primitive but were actually very complex, according to linguists. Overworlders could never hope to understand.
The other language was still a uniquely piglin one, but had developed into something more familiar to those who spoke Overworld Common. At least there was actual vocabulary and grammar to pick apart. This method of speaking was used almost exclusively when conversing with overworlders, piglins in other sounders, or when it came to topics where the simpler language fell short.
Techno didn't speak either language, obviously. But at least for the second one, he knew a bunch of words.
"Yeah, banged myself up pretty good," he said, knowing that piglins often understood the common tongue even when they didn't speak it. He looked around wearily, shifting on his feet, trying to find a good escape route. Just because they weren't hostile yet, didn't mean they'd stay this friendly. Maybe they just hadn't noticed the lack of gold yet? The brute didn't approach again.
"Sounder?" it asked curiously.
"What?" Techno said, still confused.
"Your sounder?" it repeated, frowning.
Oh.
Techno's eyes widened as all at once, he realized what was happening.
These guys recognized him as a piglin, or at least piglin enough to belong to a sounder somewhere. He knew that his hybrid traits were a dead giveaway, piglins had treated him a little warmer because of them before, but never enough for him to stop being seen as an outsider, a threat. Was that also why they didn't attack him? Maybe the specific combination of being injured and a piglin hybrid caused some sort of pity reaction in them, despite the absence of gold.
Well, if that was the case, Techno wasn't exactly in any position to complain about it. He'd take not getting attacked when he was already down on his luck.
"I don't have a sounder," he said.
The brute seemed puzzled at that, and there was another round of hurried exclamations exchanged between the piglins. One of them made a certain noise that the others picked up eagerly, repeating it a bunch. The brute looked at them, then back at Techno.
Coming to a sudden conclusion about what he had said, the brute stepped forward again.
Once more, Techno darted back. Though it was more of a pathetic little shuffle, the ankle sparking pain through his entire leg at the slightest movement. He couldn't outrun anybody like this, and maybe not even win in a fight. So he raised his hands.
"Hold on now, maybe we can talk about this."
If him admitting he was an overworlder was what got him killed, Techno would be seriously pissed.
But the brute grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. The gesture did not feel particularly aggressive, though maybe not kind either. Techno gasped when the pain in his stomach doubled at having his body jostled by the sudden manhandling. The brute started to march away while dragging Techno along, speaking to him in disjointed words that were hard to hear over the four piglins that were squealing in… excitement? A little rude that they sounded happy about Techno being hurt.
"Sounder safe," the brute was saying. "Join."
So they were taking him to receive medical care? It certainly beat being murdered, but Techno hadn't seen any piglin villages around. And the portal was right over the other side of the hill.
"We don't need to do that," he started, pulling back somewhat against the grip that encircled his forearm. "Just a little bit of external bleeding, which is where blood is supposed to be to begin with. I bet I barely even have organ failure. Appreciate the offer, though."
The brute didn't budge, walking with single-minded determination while its piglin friends flitted around them. Techno didn't understand. This was extremely odd behavior, even for a happy group trying to help out an overworlder in trouble. Piglins weren't that selfless. They probably expected to be paid for their efforts. Bruh, Techno didn't bring that much gold with him.
Chat's murmurs were growing a little louder, swallowed up in the tide of the animated piglin hunters. Techno winced and rubbed his temple, stopping his half-hearted struggling in favor of trying to listen to their ramblings.
They were repeating the word that the piglins were also saying. The thing they had been calling Techno since earlier.
Techno wasn't surprised Chat knew the word. They often had knowledge of things that Techno didn't, inexplicable as it was. The upside was that Techno could borrow some of that mysterious information in a pinch, with the downside being that Chat lied a lot, so he could never trust them. In this case, however, what they were saying sounded believable. And they were more than happy to translate for him.
Runt.
These piglins had mistaken him for a runt.
Techno couldn't even bring it in himself to be angry. He could kind of see where they were coming from, in some twisted 'other side of the coin' way. In the Overworld, Techno was considered rather intimidating. He was very tall, taller than practically every human he'd ever met and most hybrids of other origins. His physique could be described as buff in a lean way, he trained hard and he was proud of that paying off. Techno's tusks made people shy away from him, his red eyes made small children flinch when he looked at them. His tail tended to be the only hybrid attribute about him that some folks might describe as cute, though never to his face since everybody was too busy backing away once they saw the famed 'Blood God', titleholder of all Hypixel's leaderboards, coming their way.
By piglin standards, Techno was… well… he wasn't as impressive, outwardly.
Most adult piglins had at least a few inches on him, if not a whole foot. Their naturally broader build suited for the Nether made Techno look small in comparison. Techno's skin was pale and furless, more alike that of a newborn piglet than a grown piglin. It probably didn't help that piglin fur got curlier and coarser with age, meaning that Techno's long pink strands were vaguely reminiscent of a child in their softness too. Overall, the human genes that seeped into his features probably bestowed upon him a sort of rounded cuteness that made him read as young to a piglin, or weak and vulnerable. This had always been something that Techno was aware of in the very back of his mind, but never something that was an issue. Most piglins didn't look twice at him when he was out and about after determining he was an outsider. And they definitely didn't think he was weak once they saw him swing his sword around.
So all in all, this was a new experience for Techno.
"Wait, hold on, I'm not-"
He wrenched on his arm more, properly digging his heels in, wanting more than anything to relay that they had made a grievous error in assuming he was some sort of helpless, hurt runt abandoned by his sounder out in the wild on his own, looking for rescue.
The brute shut him up with another deep huff and a tug that pulled Techno an inch or so off the ground. He smothered a yelp of pain, and the piglins tutted, wagging their fingers and one even stomping its feet. As if they were chiding the big guy on his rough behavior. The brute looked vaguely apologetic. It used its other arm to pat Techno on the back while he steadied.
Then it promptly picked Techno up and slung him over its shoulder.
That jolt was painful too, making Techno take in a sharp breath. But the brute was surprisingly delicate as it adjusted him into a comfortable position that honestly, did put some pressure on the stomach wound, so it stopped feeling as if the life was leaking out of Techno. Still, he didn't like this, having the back of his legs circled by thick arms while his arms just kind of dangled. Techno stretched for his sword.
The brute reached up to pluck it from his half-grasp. Techno was at a disadvantage currently. He could only kick in annoyance as it was taken from him and given to one of the piglins, who carried it gladly. It even had the audacity of smiling at Techno when he scowled at it.
"I'm not a runt, guys, this is very unnecessary," Techno insisted. "I got places to be, nerds to beat."
Ignoring him, the brute kept walking at a steady pace. The piglins picked up their chatter again, once in a while waving at Techno or even poking at his cheeks, squealing with delighted laughter when it made his face push up in a frown.
How strange. Was his irritation being interpreted as more cuteness?
Chat seemed to be under the impression that runts were valued highly in sounders, multiplying their glee at Techno being mistaken for one. Techno didn't know if that was true or not. He'd never heard of piglin runts before. If they existed - maybe logically they would, any animal with multiple birth litters would have the chance of one in the bunch that was born much frailer than the rest - they weren't going around with the scavengers and hunters. They were kept out of sight.
They were kept inside the bastions.
This dawned on Techno around the same time he noticed the dark shape looming in the distance. He couldn't see properly, slung over the brute's shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he was, but if he squirmed just right and craned his neck back, Techno could catch a glimpse of smooth blackstone.
They were taking him there?!
"Guys, I'm seriously asking you to reconsider this." Maybe it was a bit pathetic that the kicking of his legs came closer to a toddler throwing a tantrum than somebody putting up a fight while being kidnapped. Techno felt dizzy, and the tips of his fingers had started to tingle vaguely.
He wasn't easily scared, but the thought of what would happen once they entered that bastion made Technoblade reasonably nervous. Sure, maybe this specific brute and its friends had decided Techno was kind of 'abandoned runt' coded and took the opportunity to yoink him, what if the other piglins didn't feel the same way? All they would see was some rando without golden armor invading their home. Techno would be deader than dead. He'd be so dead even Kristin wouldn't know where the heck he went.
He had to call in the big guns.
With some effort, Techno managed to wiggle his communicator out of his pocket and into his hands. Techno pinched his eyes into slits, squinting at the lit up screen. He pulled up his most recent messages and started attempting to type. Not an easy feat in his current predicament, especially as he was still trying to slither out of the brute's hold. But he was able to send one or two things before he was interrupted.
Exasperated with his continued floundering, the brute snatched his uninjured ankle. Techno found himself pulled down more properly into its hold - less of a potato sack and more of a cradled against chest type situation. Another stab of pain accompanied the change in position, and Techno's fingers twitched against his will, dropping the communicator. The piglins didn't pick that one up. Overworld trinkets held little interest to them.
Techno groaned. There went his best chance of getting out of this.
From his unseen peripheral vision, he could hear more noises, steadily increasing in volume. More piglins. And a whole lot of them. Brutes probably patrolled more frequently in this area too, guarding the outer reaches of the sounder's borders against any intruders. And if they deemed Techno one of those, he'd be lucky if they simply chased him off.
Sure enough, the brute that was carrying him suddenly came to a lumbering stop, grip growing a little tighter. Techno could feel its chest rise and fall, then the small rumble of the exchange, noises deep and gruff. Even though chunks of the conversation took place in the more complex piglin language, Techno didn't catch any of it. Maybe because Chat was still busy making fun of him.
He was shifted until the brute had a hold beneath his armpits instead, lifting him like an unruly kitten and holding him at arm's length. This guy truly was freakishly strong. It held him up to the one it had been talking to, another brute barely any smaller.
Techno stared into its heavily scarred face, the beady black eyes, the lips pulling back in a snarl. This was it for him, huh?
But then the brute examining him laughed. Laughed? A loud thunderous chortle. It extended its hand to pat him on the top of his head a few times.
"Runt!" it declared happily.
Maybe if Techno would get out of this with his life intact, then certainly not his dignity.
The brute that was holding him continued onto the bridge that led into the bastion itself. Techno had lost the energy to keep up the escape attempts, vaguely nauseous, not just with nerves but also the wet patch growing on the bandages when he glanced down. He was getting lightheaded. Techno pushed down on the wound again, distantly hoping it could keep him from bleeding out any faster than he already was.
Seeing this, the brute chuffed and awkwardly pet his back in reassurance.
If Chat was right about piglins looking kindly upon runts for some reason, at least that meant they probably wouldn't let him die. Maybe. As long as the misunderstanding persisted.
And - assuming he did survive this - Techno could comfort himself with the dubious honor of being the first person who ever got to see the inside of an active bastion and lived to tell the tale.
Phil was pulled from sleep by his communicator blaring into his ear.
He shot up, sending the device flying in an arch across the room, where it slammed against the wall and clattered onto the ground. The two crows on Phil's desk chittered to each other happily at the nasty trick they played, bobbing up and down.
"Little shits," Phil grumbled at them, rubbing at his face. The crows cackled with more fervor in response.
Sunlight was falling into the bedroom from outside, but the heavy curtains locked out most of the glare. When he worked late on his projects, which happened more often than Phil liked to admit, it wasn't unusual for him to sleep in past noon. He always left his communicator in another room so it wouldn't wake him up with its dreadful chiming. Sometimes, the crows thought that was an invitation to be nuisances. This wasn't the first time they had moved his communicator while he slept.
Yawning, Phil threw off the blankets and stood, stretching until his back audibly cracked. That also made the crows break out in clicking laughter, but a slight glare shut them up. The communicator had stopped ringing in the meantime.
Phil picked it up on his way to the living room, glancing at the screen. The fact that he had already accumulated three missed calls was strange. And they all came from the same person. He pushed the button to dial back and held the device up to his ear while he opened the curtains. The person on the other end picked up within one ring.
"What did Techno do this time?" Phil asked, grinning slightly at the thought of whatever Techno was getting up to. Because there was only ever one reason why Simon Hypixel could be calling him.
"Philza," the man said on the other end, sounding very relieved to hear from him. Other background noise made it hard to understand him. He must be in the hub. "Nothing, it's just- He's done nothing. That's the problem."
Phil hummed slightly while he opened the window too. He shooed the two crows outside back to the rest of the flock. "What do you mean?"
"Technoblade was supposed to be in a tournament this morning," Simon said. "He didn't show up."
"That's strange," Phil said slowly.
"It's definitely not like him," Simon agreed. "He isn't responding to my messages, so I wanted to know if you'd heard from him, maybe?"
"I haven't," Phil said. "I'll keep an eye out, though."
Simon sighed. "Please do. I don't know if he got cold feet or something bad happened, but I'm worried."
"I'm sure he's fine." Phil laughed. "Maybe he's off farming potatoes somewhere again."
After hanging up, Phil scrolled straight into his chatlog. He wouldn't believe in a million years Techno got cold feet about a tournament, so something else must be wrong. He'd better contact Techno and find out for himself.
When he opened the log, there were four missed messages Phil couldn't remember being there before he fell asleep.
[Technoblade said to you: taking a trip into the nether, let me know if you need anything old man]
That one was sent very early in the morning. Techno was always up and about at such ridiculous hours, his day-night rhythm was utter shit. But there also wasn't anything strange about it.
[Technoblade said to you: don't tell anybody but I just took a major L during my trip]
Phil smiled at the vagueness of the message, noting it was sent about an hour after the first. Then another good twenty minutes passed before the last two were sent in quick succession.
[Technoblade said to you: i thnk m be ing kdnpp]
[Technoblade said to you: bstio wt off 120 219]
Those were very strange indeed. And concerning. Phil couldn't really decipher what they meant, though obviously it had to do with Techno not showing up for the tournament, right? Did he run into some sort of trouble in the Nether?
Sighing, Phil pushed the communicator into his pocket and grabbed his pack from the desk. His project would have to go on hold until he could get to the bottom of this.